Fahrenheit 203
by Montana-Bob
Summary: One day after the episode 'The Entity' when Kyle's annoying cousin from Connecticut, Kyle, goes home with a 5,000,000 bailout check, Kyle wins a bet with him. Oneshot.


_A/N: So my plan was to spend a couple hours working on at least one of two stories that have deadlines: This year's South Park Big Bang entry with its own deadline, and some missing scenes for _When I Make A Promise _with a self-imposed deadline of March 23 for the one-year anniversary of that story's completion. Instead, __**THIS**__ happened. I have no excuse ;-)_

"I hate that little asshole," Cartman moaned, his chin resting glumly against his arms as he sat on Kyle's bedroom floor.

"I know, Cartman." For once, Kyle couldn't blame him for being angry. He knew Cartman didn't just hate his cousin because he was such a perfect stereotype, Cartman hated him because of how that perfect stereotype had screwed them all out of a share of five million dollars just before he had left to go home yesterday.

"I just can't believe he was such a jerk about it!" Stan said. He looked around the room at his friends as if looking for support. "I mean…we weren't really _that_ mean to him…were we?"

Kyle had to think about that. Maybe they _had_ been sort of cruel to him; he had actually been sort of worried when they tied his sled to the back of a bus bound for Connecticut and told him to hang on, no matter what. Kyle had been concerned he might get hungry or something…but he had at least tried to be nice. Right? After all, he had offered Cartman a forty dollar bribe to not rip on his cousin Kyle from Connecticut, even though he was a perfect target for Cartman's bigotry.

But after what happened yesterday just before Cousin Kyle returned to Connecticut, he wished Cartman had killed him. If they had just treated 'that little asshole' a little bit better, he and his five million dollar check might still be here and they could be talking about ways to spend it.

"Nothing we can do about it now," Kenny said. "He's gone, we fucked up again and we got nothing."

A dreary silence fell over them. "Five million dollars…" Cartman moaned.

They looked up at the sound of footsteps outside the door. There was a knock.

"Kyle?" Sheila Broflovski called through the door.

"It's not locked, mom," Kyle said with the voice of someone who had been condemned to hell at age 10. Sheila opened the door. She was holding their cordless phone next to her ample bosom, muffling its mouthpiece.

"Say hello to your little cousin Kyle, Kyle Two!" As she looked around Kyle's bedroom happily, it was clear the four boys' melancholia was completely lost on her. "He got home safe and sound, and just called to say hello to you!"

"Aww, mom…do I _have_ to?" Kyle complained, and Sheila muffled the phone against her chest even harder.

"Oh, Kyle!" Sheila replied, still clutching the phone. "I know you boys didn't say good bye on the best of terms when he left yesterday…but just say hello to him, Kyle Two! I'm sure you both can work this out."

"Fine, mom." Kyle reached out and took the phone his mother held out to him. He held it at his side, obviously waiting for her to leave the room.

As she turned to go, she looked around the room, speaking to them all. "Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes boys. Don't talk to him for too long, Kyle Two, because I need you to come downstairs and set the table. I'm making spaghetti!" She left, pulling the door closed behind her.

"Hey, Kyle," Kyle said flatly as his mother's footsteps retreated down the hallway.

"Hello, Kyle Two!" Kyle's annoying, whiny voice came through the phone's earpiece. His incessant mouth breathing was even more irritating over the telephone. "I just called to let you know I got home all right! But I think I got a _rash_ from the pillow they gave me, and the dry air on the plane made my sinuses really hurt, and don't even get me started on how crowded the plane was—"

"That's great, Kyle," Kyle replied. There was a long silence, broken only by the hissing of cousin Kyle's breathing.

"Well, I know you're kind of mad at me," Kyle said, and Kyle closed his eyes. _Kind of mad…_ That was like saying the pope was kind of Catholic. He and his friends would have tolerated a lot of his annoying bullshit for even a small part of the five million dollars he had left with yesterday. "But you guys are sort of douchebags, and—"

"There's nothing I can do about it now," Kyle interrupted. "You made the choice to go help your mom, and I have to respect that."

Kyle didn't know where the next thing he said came from. He only knew it seemed divinely inspired, sent directly to him by God or Abraham or Moses or whatever, but it was brilliant and hopefully would play right into Cousin Kyle's obsession with both numbers and perfection.

"Look," he said into the phone. "I can only talk to you for a couple more minutes. My mom's making spaghetti for me and my friends…and as soon as the water gets to two hundred and three degrees and starts boiling so she can cook the spaghetti…I have to go set the table."

Stan, Kenny, and Cartman were looking at him curiously.

"Well that's _fine_ Kyle Two," Kyle said snootily. His breathing became even louder and raspier. "You can hang up on me whenever you want."

"Good," Kyle replied. _Wait for it…_

"But you're wrong about one thing, Kyle Two! That water—"

"Stop fucking calling me that!" Kyle screamed into the phone even as he shouted a silent _YES!_ to himself. Cousin Kyle was taking the bait. "You're not even here anymore! There's no reason for you to call me that now. No one has to be able to tell us apart."

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone, broken only by the sounds of bellows-like wheezing. "You're right…_Kahl_," Kyle responded condescendingly. "What I was going to say, though, is that that water is going to boil at two hundred and _twelve_ degrees, not two hundred and _three!_"

Kyle nearly lost it laughing and had to hold the phone away from himself so Kyle wouldn't hear. Stan was giving him a puzzled look.

"No, you're wrong," Kyle finally replied, and Stan edged closer to him, trying to listen to both ends of the conversation. "My mom's pan of water is going to boil at two hundred and three degrees..."

"Kyle, Kyle…" Kyle's voice had descended into levels of condescension Kyle had never heard from him before. "I'm afraid you're wrong!"

"No I'm not, you annoying little myopic _prick_." Kyle snarled back. "And I'm willing to bet you _one million dollars, right now…_ that I'm right." Kyle held a finger to his lips to shush Stan, who seemed like he wanted to say something. "If I'm right, you have to send me a check for a million dollars. And if you're right…I will become your slave and live in a cardboard box while I work and send you everything I earn except a little bit to survive on, until I've repaid you."

Cartman made a strangled sound, and Kyle shushed him as well. He could sense the wheels turning in his cousin's mind as he thought he was about to win an easy wager.

"All right Kyle…" Cousin Kyle was all business now. "I'll take your bet. One million dollars it is."

Bingo. Kyle smirked. "All right, then…just so we're perfectly clear, the bet is that the pan of water my mom is heating up on _my _stove, in _my_ kitchen, in _my_ house, is going to boil at two hundred and three degrees."

More mouth breathing, then: "Yes, Kyle. And you can look for yourself and see that I'm right. All you have to do is go online and google 'boiling point of water' to prove—"

"Yeah, you're right!" Kyle cried, sitting up and thrusting his free fist triumphantly toward the ceiling of his bedroom. "I _can_ go online and google 'boiling point of water' and see that water _does_ boil at two hundred and twelve degrees…at _sea level_."

There was complete silence at the other end of the phone; even the mouth breathing was gone. Kyle relished the silence for a moment, and then swooped in for the kill.

"But I don't _live_ at sea level. I'm at five thousand feet elevation! …and this high up, water boils at two hundred and _three_ degrees! The higher up you go, the lower the boiling point of water gets! It's why they put high altitude cooking instructions on a lot of recipes."

Stan couldn't hold in his laughter anymore and rolled over onto his side howling into Kyle's pillow. Cartman grasped how Kyle had just screwed his annoying little cousin a moment later and dissolved into helpless laughter as well. Kenny was staring at Kyle in awe, thinking about the food he'd be able to buy his family with some of the money he knew Kyle would give him.

"So, listen," Kyle said happily. "It was really nice talking to you again, Kyle, but I have to go set the table now. Make that a cashier's check, and send it to me overnight, would you? You can deduct the cost of the postage if you want. Bye now." He ended the call.

There was a thirty second boisterous celebration that finally ended when Cartman asked, "Do you really think that little Jew rat will send you the money?"

"Oh, I _know _he will! He may be an annoying douchebag, but it's practically hardwired into him to keep his end of a business deal, especially with family."

"Holy shit, dude!" Stan said happily. "That was _awesome!_"

Kyle grinned and nodded. "Yeah…hey, let's go downstairs and celebrate our quarter million dollars each with some spaghetti."

THE END


End file.
